


Before It Fades

by prompt_fills



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Getting Together, M/M, Misunderstandings, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-18 22:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: Cristiano tries to woo Leo because Leo is maybe, possibly, definitely his soulmate. Too bad Leo is having none of Cristiano’s nonsense, convinced Cristiano is just making fun of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ledeuxiemesexe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ledeuxiemesexe/gifts).



> Thanks to [thecolorispurple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecolorispurple) for the beta! Any remaining mistakes are mine.

Cristiano blinks a few times, then reaches to wipe the remains of a drink from his face. He is very aware of the sudden silence and even more aware of the many eyes that are staring at him.

Leo’s face is doing some contorted grimace, lips parted like _he’s_ the one who is surprised; like he didn’t expect getting so pissed at Cristiano that he would lose his temper.

If Leo is trying to apologize, Cristiano isn’t sticking around to hear it. He doesn’t want to wait for the words; Leo’s message has been received loud and clear. Again.

Admittedly, “Hi, love” may not have been a good opening on Cristiano’s part but the way Leo tensed up and swivelled around, that was uncalled for. So was the way Leo’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring. _‘Are you trying to be funny?’_ Cristiano said no and Leo lashed out.

Leo’s hand reaches for Cristiano but Cristiano hastily takes a step back, shaking his head like a wet dog. A few quick steps and he disappears into the crowd of the club, everyone shuffling awkwardly on their feet to step out of his way as he stomps past them. They’re too curious not to gape but too chickenshit to risk a direct eye contact.

A few moments after he steps into the restroom, a head pokes in. Cristiano glances up, relaxing when he sees Sergio’s wry smile.

Sergio lets out a theatrical sigh, walks to the paper towel dispenser and pulls out several towels, bringing them to Cristiano. Cristiano takes them, dabbing at his face. The smell is atrocious, so he tosses them to the bin and turns on the tap to wash his face instead.

“You never give up, do you?” Sergio says, bracing himself over the sink, fingers drumming a familiar rhythm against the counter.

Cristiano wants to say, _I’m running out of time._ He raises his head, shooting Sergio a glare though the mirror.

Sergio has been immune to the glare for a long time, so he doesn’t miss a beat, “What I don’t get, is how can you be so obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed, I’m certain,” Cristiano corrects.

“Yeah, sure.” Sergio’s mouth twists into a smile. “You still got some of that love confession in your hair. You’re lucky the ice cubes didn’t break your nose.”

Cristiano groans, twisting this way and that, trying to see the spot in his hair Sergio indicated.

“Here, let me, you idiot,” Sergio says, grabbing more paper towels.

Cristiano lets him make even bigger mess of his hairdo. “Thanks.”

Sergio punches his shoulder, cracking a smile. “You’re obsessed, loverboy.”

Cristiano doesn’t get to reply, because the door is yanked open. Cristiano steels himself for another unpleasant conversation, although he really hoped Leo wouldn’t follow after him. The whole thing has been embarrassing enough already.

Instead of Leo’s attempts at apology, what Cristiano gets is a punch from Piqué. The guy barrels in so fast Cristiano has barely time to blink and then he’s being shoved around, stumbling and catching himself hard against the counter.

“What do you think you’re playing at, huh?” Piqué says hotly.

“Whoa, whoa.” Sergio is quicker to shake off his surprise and he hurries to step between Cristiano and the angry Catalan.

Cristiano manages to duck away while Sergio holds Piqué in a chokehold.

“You leave him alone,” Piqué hisses at Cristiano while elbowing Sergio in the stomach. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“Geri, stay out of this,” Sergio says, trying to manhandle Piqué back to the door.

“You shouldn’t stick your nose–”

“Geri, stop.”

“You had no right to treat him like that,” Piqué snarls. “Just because he doesn’t have any words doesn’t mean–”

“What?!” Sergio lets go of Piqué, who quickly takes two steps away. “That’s horseshit, everybody has some words,” Sergio says, face scrunching up in confusion. His hand goes to rub the spot on his shoulder where Cristiano knows are his words.

Piqué freezes. He glances from Sergio to Cristiano. “You didn’t know that?” There is a moment of tense silence before Piqué curses and goes on, “Then why the fuck have you been trying to ridicule him all this time?”

Cristiano’s throat is so tight he couldn’t answer even if he wanted to.

Piqué starts shouting but his words wash over Cristiano without registering.

“You’re fucked up, man. Fucked up. Even more than I thought. You stay out of his life. Both of you.”

All Cristiano hears is the echo of his own heartbeat in his ears. His hands are shaking and he slides against the counter, leaning heavily into it. _He doesn’t have any words. He doesn’t have any words. He doesn’t have any words._

Sergio and Piqué keep talking, Cristiano is vaguely aware of it, but it isn’t until Sergio is kneeling down next to him, a hand on the side of his neck, that Cristiano comes out of his haze.

“Cris?”

“I’m fine,” he responds automatically, then he shakes his head and briefly closes his eyes. When he opens them again, Sergio’s is still hovering over him and Piqué is gone.

“I thought you said–”

“I did.”

Sergio scratches the bridge of his nose. “Um, I don’t get it.”

There are no words to describe it.

Numbly, Cristiano rolls up his sleeve, unclasps the guard that covers his words and peels off the tape so slowly his skin tingles. The sensation doesn’t make things feel any more real.

Silently, he offers his hand to Sergio to read. He has never considered letting anyone see his words. Words were always a very private thing and Cristiano’s were _a secret_. Now he’s here, in the dingy room that reeks of spilled urine and some cleaning agent, showing Sergio his words because they don’t matter anymore.

“Oh.”

Cristiano pulls his hand back and mechanically puts the cover back on. The first few letters have started to fade out last month. He wonders if Sergio noticed. “Yeah.”

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah,” Cristiano repeats.

“Any chance it’s someone else?”

“I wish,” Cristiano says, regretting it the moment the words are past his lips. Sergio looks at him sadly, eyes dark and pensive. His hand slides a little lower, squeezing Cristiano’s shoulder tightly.

“Cris–”

“Don’t,” Cristiano says, shrugging off Sergio’s hand. Sergio can hardly relate, he and his soulmate have been making heart-eyes at each other since the moment they’ve met. Like basically everyone Cristiano knows. “We should head back.”

“You’ll be okay?”

“Sure. Go mingle. I’ll be out there in a minute.” He stands up, turns to the mirror and starts minimizing the damage done to his hair. Just keep going. Nothing has changed. Only now, the very last remains of hope are gone.

Leo isn’t being stubborn. He hasn’t been denying their bond because he’s disappointed with Cristiano or because he’s trying to make Cristiano wait to see if he’s ready to commit to their bond. Things _won’t_ change, no matter what Cristiano wants or does. It was hopeless the moment Leo said his words and the ink filled in. He thought Leo was having hard time coping with who his soulmate was, the same as Cristiano. Instead, Leo was rejecting him.

It should have warned him, the lack of reaction on Leo’s part. He should have turned away right there and then, turn and never look back. Instead, Cristiano had to get stupid ideas into his head. Silly notions of soulmarks and dreams about future that won’t come true.

He’s never known anyone whose soulmate rejected the bond.

Sergio wavers for a moment but then Cristiano hears the door open and close. Cristiano gives himself a minute to compose himself, to put on a mask, and then he heads back as well.

There are a few curious glances but no one is flat out staring anymore. Leo is nowhere in sight and after a few minutes pass and no one comes to make another scene, Cristiano lets his guard down a notch. He walks to the tables and sits next to Marcelo, and keeps faking all his smiles.

About half an hour later, Sergio finds him again. There is enough prowl in his step to make Cristiano worry. He knows Sergio well enough to read all the tells. “Hey,” he says, eyeing Sergio with suspicion.

“Hey, Cris.” Sergio beams at him. He reaches to his pocket, pulls out a keycard and slips it to Cristiano under the table so the others wouldn’t see. “You can thank me later. Room 263.”

Room 263 is on the third floor and Cristiano has no idea what’s behind the door. If it is some poor soul Sergio talked into keeping Cristiano company for tonight, he’ll need to send them home. If the room is Leo’s, then Cristiano is going to take the chance to talk in private and clear things out between them. Cristiano would explain himself without revealing what his words say and him and Leo would part ways in peace. He needs at least a closure.

Cristiano doesn’t realize he’s been practising the speech in his head until he’s knocking on the door instead of using the card he’s been given.

He stills, listening for the footsteps from within the room. There is no click of high heels as someone moves closer. The door swings inwards and Cristiano steps in before it fully registers what he’s doing.

“Leo,” Cristiano breathes out. It’s a plea, it’s a whine. It’s a name that tastes all too familiar on his tongue.

Leo bites on his lip and doesn’t say anything but his knuckles on the door handle turn white. He stares at Cristiano, eyes widening. The hallway as well as the room behind Leo is only dimly lit. Leo’s eyes are impossibly dark, gleaming with emotions Cristiano can’t phantom. He is barefooted and his shirt is wet from the shower he must have taken. The hair at the nape of his neck is wet as well, curling in all direction.

Cristiano takes another step forward and Leo takes a step back, letting go of the door that swings shut behind them. The _click_ is louder than it has any right to be and Leo’s eyes snap away from his. “What the fuck do you want? I’m not going to apologize.”

“Just hear me out. I’m sorry, okay?” Cristiano says quickly. “I need to apologize.”

“For… tonight?”

“For everything. I thought that you would… You didn’t obviously. But I honestly couldn’t have known before Piqué told me the truth about you today.”

Cristiano has never seen someone lose colour so quickly.

“He told you?”

Cristiano nods. “He did. He told me and Sergio.”

“He had no right to tell you anything,” Leo says, tone cold. “Why are you here? Haven’t you mocked me enough already?”

“Mock you?” Cristiano echoes dimly.

“Why would you keep making fun of me otherwise?”

“I wasn’t making fun of you. I meant it.”

“What?” Leo splutters and Cristiano has a flashback to how they first met, Leo all shy and earnest, sticking out his hand for a shake, stammering out his name and making the words set on Cristiano’s arm. What used to be a faint shade flared up in colour and Cristiano held his breath, looking at Leo expectantly. Leo didn’t react. Cristiano bought the guard and the tape and kept the mark covered ever since.

“I meant it,” Cristiano repeats and he has suddenly problems to keep his breathing regular. “I’ve always meant it and you always kept shooting me down. I thought you were trying to test me, I didn’t realize it wasn’t your choice.”

Leo scoffs. “You _knew_ I liked you and you kept throwing it in my face every chance we met.”

“I had no idea,” Cristiano insists. “I was trying to win you over.”

Leo tilts his head to one side like he sometimes does when he’s puzzled. “What exactly did Geri tell you?”

Cristiano is glad his voice doesn’t break as he says, “He told me you don’t have my words.”

Leo sucks in a breath and closes his eyes. Shit.

“Any words. That you don’t have _any_ words,” Cristiano says quickly but there is no way Leo missed the slip of the tongue. “Look, I get it, you’re not interested, I’ll back off. I just wanted to reconcile. So, uh, I should be going.”

“Cris,” Leo says, voice low and quiet and Cristiano stops dead in his tracks.

“Yes?”

“Geri wasn’t right. Well, he was because I don’t really have the words but I…”

As Leo tries to gather his thoughts enough to explain, Cristiano feels the flutter of a new hope in his chest. _But I like you anyway,_ he feels hang in the air between them, left unsaid.

Leo sighs, “You were being an asshole to me.”

“I didn’t mean to.” _I was desperate. Especially once I realized the mark is starting to fade back into mere shade like all the rejected marks supposedly do._

“Did Geri tell you I wanted it to be real?” Leo asks and there is something in his tone that aimed for mocking but turned out wrecked instead.

Cristiano sucks in a breath and all rational thoughts desert him. He closes the distance between them and leans down, pressing his lips into Leo’s. For a few blissful seconds, Cristiano gets to enjoy the sensation of the warm lips beneath his. He cards his fingers through Leo’s unruly hair and gets a choked sound in response.

Then Leo is shoving him away with a startling force. His face is ablaze, his eyes so angry Cristiano honestly thinks for a second he’s going to get hit.

Reality comes crashing around him and he staggers back, backing up until he hits a wall.

Leo’s cheeks are flushed, probably from both anger and embarrassment. Cristiano has to look away.

“What the fuck was that? I’m not your booty call.”

“No. God, no. I–”

Leo crosses his arms, looking unhappy. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

 _You’re my soulmate but I’m not yours and I have a hard time letting you go_ , Cristiano thinks bitterly but doesn’t voice the thought. Leo is already mad enough. He stays silent too long.

“Fuck you,” Leo seethes. “I can see right through you. You figured I like you, Geri told you I don’t have any words, so you thought I’d be convenient, right? Think again.”

Leo is trying to get him to back off, shoving at him, and he has to say something, anything to explain the compulsion to lean down and steal another kiss, to be close, to get closer and to share the bond with Leo.

“You’re anything but convenient.” Cristiano takes in a deep breath. “You don’t get it, Leo.”

“Then why don’t you explain it to me? Because I swear to God I’m not playing along with any of your games.”

“I didn’t know you don’t have a mark and I didn’t know you were… well,” Cristiano waves his hand between the two of them. “Interested.”

“I wasn’t interested in you taking the piss out of me.”

“That’s not what I wanted.” Cristiano looks at him, trying to gauge his reaction. “Here,” he says after a moment, and goes to take off the guard. This is the quickest way to make Leo understand. The tape peels off easy enough, he’s already done it for Sergio.

Leo stares at the words that curl around Cristiano’s arm in Leo’s distinctive cursive. _H-hi, I’m Leo._

Leo reaches out in wonder, the tips of his fingers hovering over the mark. “It’s been fading,” he chokes out.

Cristiano’s throat is too tight to make a reply.

“You should have told me right away,” Leo murmurs.

“I tried,” Cristiano manages to croak.

Leo’s hand wraps around Cristiano’ arm, sending a jolt of warmth through the bond. They both stare down at their hands, then Leo is tugging at him, insistent.

Leo’s is all tense, coiled-up focus. “Come here,” he says and the light in the bedroom switches on. He stands facing partly away from a mirror, twisting to see the reflection of his back. “Do you remember what you told me? The first time we–” 

“Of course.” Cristiano steps close enough for the faint smell of Leo’s shower gel to register. “I said, ‘It’s a, ah, a pleasure.’ Exactly like that,” he says with a sheepish shrug, “I realized halfway though that my words flared to life.”

Pain and longing mix on Leo’s face. “I could never make it out.” He pulls his shirt up and his sweatpants lower, and there is a scar running through the lower part of his back, jagged edges blending into smooth skin with random shreds of black letters woven in between.

Cristiano slowly repeats the words neither of them can read on Leo’s skin, reaching his hand and tracing the phantom shapes into the damaged skin, right where they should have been.

Leo shivers and Cristiano glances up to meet his gaze. They both know the scrawl matches the words.

Cristiano doesn’t pull his hands back, his thumb absent-mindedly stroking the strip of the exposed skin, wondering if Leo can feel anything at all through the bond or if what’s left of the mark is too small.

They are both quiet for a while, then a smile tugs at Leo’s lips. “That feels really nice,” he murmurs.

Cristiano traces the scar once again.

“Sorry about the drink, soulmate.”

“Well, you owe me a new one,” Cristiano says, glad his voice comes out even.

“Deal,” Leo agrees easily.

Cristiano’s heart starts pounding faster, having finally heard the answer he’s been waiting for since they’ve first met. “Sergio’s going to be insufferable. The rest of them too,” he has to say.

Leo groans and Cristiano has barely time to think that it would be okay if Leo wanted to keep things secret, and then Leo is saying, “We’re soulmates, so they’d better come around,” and leaning in to kiss Cristiano’s lips.

He’ll really have to thank Sergio later.


End file.
